Tea and Sympathy
by geekmama
Summary: "Molly gasped and nearly dropped her mobile as she read Sherlock's text: 'Come up and see the baby, Room 312 - SH' - A sequel to 'Godfather'
1. Chapter 1

**_~ Chapter One ~_**

* * *

Molly gasped and nearly dropped her mobile as she read Sherlock's text:

 **Come up and see the baby, Room 312 - SH**

Room 312 - one of the private rooms in a wing that had recently been redone. But what on earth? Why were they even here at Bart's?

Fortunately she had only been finishing up some paperwork, so she was able to rush out and down the hall to the lift, heart thudding with excitement and not a little fear. Molly knew quite well that Mary had planned to go to a birthing center on Harley Street when her time came, the arrangements had been made months ago and she'd gone there for all her prenatal checks and scans. How had Mary and her daughter ended up in hospital?

Yet Sherlock's text had conveyed no hint of concern, and she was pretty sure he would have given her some sort of warning if there'd been a problem. Therefore, she tried to calm herself, tried not to fidget, as the lift rose all too slowly to the third floor. The door finally slid open and she forced herself to walk quickly, not run. Down the long corridor that led to the newly refurbished wing. Waving brief acknowledgments to the surprised greetings of fellow staff members, who knew her but seldom saw her outside the canteen. Focused on her goal.

She reached it soon enough, and timidly pushed at the door, but it then opened abruptly and there was Sherlock, looking a trifle harried, disheveled (she wondered if anyone else would have noticed the imperfect way he'd re-tucked his shirt, his slightly mussed curls, or the faint but discernable stains on his trousers), but smiling for all that: a true smile that reached his eyes.

"Come in, they're tired but wanted you to see when we found out you were working tonight."

She entered and there were John and Mary - and the baby, a small pink-capped bundle in Mary's arms. "Mary!" Molly breathed, and swiftly moved across the room to the bed. "What happened? Both of you are alright?"

And Mary chuckled. "We're fine, but… um… she wouldn't wait."

"It was my fault," said John. "I was on a case with Sherlock and it ran long. Mary tried to contact us-"

"Fifty-nine missed calls," Sherlock said, managing to convey both remorse and amusement.

"Oh, _Sherlock!_ " Molly exclaimed, rounding on him.

"I know. But she got her own back again, believe me."

"Needs must," said Mary, lightly. Molly turned back to her, and saw that her eyes were laughing. "Gave birth right in the back seat of the car," she continued. "John was wonderful. And Sherlock... got to hold my hand."

Sherlock sniffed. "Hold your hand."

"Well, basically," Mary said with a tired grin. "I'm sure you can imagine."

And Molly, who'd done a rotation in obstetrics years before, nodded and flashed Sherlock an amused smile. He silently replied with a sort of horrified grimace, and she laughed.

John said, "The ambulance arrived a couple of minutes after she was born. Brought us here for observation - well, _my girls_." He gave a wondering smile at the phrase. "But I expect they'll be released in the morning. They both checked out fine."

"I'm so glad!" Molly smiled. "May I take a peek?"

"Of course," said Mary. "That's why we called you up. I've just fed her, and we do need to sleep, but… well, look!"

Molly did look. And held the little darling, too, very briefly. "Mary, she's perfect. So beautiful."

"Hmm," said Sherlock, who was looking over her shoulder at the tiny, slightly scrunched and mottled face.

Molly gave him a quick glare. "She's _beautiful!_ "

Sherlock's lips twitched. "So she is," he said, wisely.

Molly gave a firm nod, and carefully gave the baby back to her mother. "You should rest while she sleeps. How did the nursing go?"

Mary wrinkled her nose a bit, but said, "Pretty well. She's got a good latch already. Likes to eat."

"That's good," Molly said, nodding. "She'll sleep better. And it'll get easier. Or so I've been told." She was aware that those last words had sounded wistful rather than matter-of-fact, as intended, and aware, too, of Sherlock's discerning gaze upon her. She cleared her throat, smiled, and stood up. "I'll go now. Shall I take Sherlock away to the canteen for a cup of tea?"

"That'd be great," John grinned, a twinkle in his eye as he looked up at his friend.

Sherlock said, with specious disapprobation, "I can take a hint. And I've seen more than my fair share of Watsons, today. I may need something rather _stronger_ than tea."

But as Molly watched him bend and kiss Mary's forehead, then straighten to shake John's hand, Sherlock's eyes were as warm as she'd ever seen them.


	2. Chapter 2

_**~ Chapter Two ~**_

* * *

"So how was it?" Molly could not help asking once she and Sherlock were alone in the lift. She cocked her head to one side and looked up at him, carefully not smiling.

He could obviously see her eyes, however, and narrowed his own. "I thought you were offering me tea, not teasing."

"A bit of both," she acknowledged. "Thank goodness they were all right. And I'm sure you did your part admirably well."

He laughed, but rather mirthlessly. "It was my fault she was in that predicament."

"Well, only partly," Molly said. "She could have called a cab to take her to the birthing centre, you know, rather than waiting for John. And you."

"Mmm." He looked thoughtful.

Molly went on: "She had no way of knowing how quickly things would move along. She probably thought she had time – and then it was too late. She's not the first woman to be caught out that way, and she won't be the last."

The lift stopped and the door opened, but he didn't move, still thinking, considering her words. She was glad of that, but caught hold of his coat sleeve and gave him a little tug. "Come! Let's get that tea!"

Five minutes later she was carrying the tray over to the table where he was sitting.

He raised his brows. "Tea _and_ Ginger Nuts. A surfeit of riches."

"Mrs. Hudson told me they were a favorite of yours." She set the tray down and took the chair opposite him.

"Ah, Hudders," he murmured approvingly, picking up several of the biscuits. He tossed one into his mouth and crunched, looking rapturous.

Molly watched him, taking a sip of her tea to hide her smile.

For several minutes they just sat, quietly enjoying each others' company and their late snack in the peace of the nearly empty canteen.

Presently, however, she felt Sherlock's eye upon her again and she set her cup down.

His mouth half full of ginger nut, he said, "Are you off soon?"

"No. Midnight. Why?"

He frowned. "I thought we might share a cab…"

"That's all right. I know you want to get home and change out of those things."

His eyebrows rose and he glanced down at his clothing. "That bad?"

"No! Well, I doubt if many others would notice. It could certainly be worse."

"There wasn't much blood," he reflected. "Even the baby… as you said, she's quite perfect."

Molly smiled. "You're so lucky to have been there."

That made him laugh. "Not so sure of that. I've rarely been so…"

"Terrified?" she supplied.

He considered. "No. John's a doctor, after all, and we called 999 when we first stopped the car. I think Mary was a bit terrified, though, what with the less than optimal circumstances. And the pain, of course." A shadow crossed his face.

Molly said, "It's hard to watch people you love suffer, knowing there's so little you can do to help. Though in the case of childbirth, one at least has a baby to show for it in the end. Someone to love that's all your own. For a little while."

He smiled crookedly. "Until they grow into a stroppy teen?"

"Or a stroppy adult," she chuckled.

"Hmmph."

"I notice there's no denial," she said, provocatively.

"Not much use in that," he said, sounding resigned. "You've always been able to see me."

Oh, dear.

What a dreadful man he was. To inspire such warmth in her, such… love. Yes, love. She could not deny it. Such an aching admixture of happiness and longing… and years of it. _Years_.

But it would not do. Not just now. So she merely replied, "Yes."

A small, crooked smile played on his lips as he considered her – seeing her, too, though there was no help for that. But then, after a long minute, he tipped his chin up, eyes narrowing a bit. "I don't like you walking home that late, which I suppose is your plan."

She considered this with some amusement. "I always walk, if it's not pouring buckets."

"Mmm. Well, let's share a cab tonight, if you don't mind me staying in all my… um… _dirt_."

She laughed. "Of course I don't mind, if _you_ can bear it. I'll just finish my paperwork while you check those cultures you set up the other day. And maybe I can get off a bit early. It's been very quiet down there, tonight."

"Has it?" He stood up. "Lucky you!"

She rose, too, and smiled up at him. "Oh, yes. I believe so," she said.

It was the truth, in so many ways.

~.~


End file.
